


Neural Response to Pain Among Other Things

by Twelve (Dodici)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Greed Island Arc, M/M, but you sure can read it as codependency, canonical Zoldyck awfulness mentioned, you could read it as friendship... ah no wait you can't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodici/pseuds/Twelve
Summary: For Killua, casual cuddling comes with a side dish of deep, aching lucubration.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 23
Kudos: 286





	Neural Response to Pain Among Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> What’s up, it’s day twelve of social distancing, as the cool kids call it, and I think my cat has started talking back to me.  
> Please watch out for mention of abuse of the Zoldyck variety and actual abuse of the English language. Take care <3

So, it’s day seven and it still feels like the bones themselves are sore and burning, hands that send painful, sparkling blades of pain right through his brain every time Killua dares to move them. And that isn’t even the real problem: they’re hands, the most used body parts since opposable thumbs became a thing.

At least torture training comes in handy – ah, how fun – because after being chained up in every uncomfortable position in existence Killua is now able to ignore even the most annoying itches for days at a stretch. 

It’s way more difficult at night, when there isn’t any distraction from the restless chill crawling up to his shoulders. There aren’t even crickets there in the desert outside Soufrabi and the sky is buzzing with constellations, twinkling like a low, monotonous white noise. 

The only thing Killua can do is lie down on the dusty ground while he tries to find a position that hurts a reasonable amount and not much more. 

Fucking annoying, yes, and he would do it all over again without blinking.

That’s a distracting thought: Gon’s hatsu blowing inside his palms, so violent and destructive – so bright, burning as hot as Gon himself. Gon's face, the tone of his voice, so sure when he said that Killua was the only one who could hold the ball – Gon’s eyes, burning even more than his nen.

Killua has to crush his face on his blanket and count to ten or he’s going to explode in a fizzle of electricity like a broken toaster.

“Killua?”

He inhales fast, but it's fine. Gon sure is amazing, but he has yet to learn mindreading – he should be safe. He must be.

He turns, trying to act cool. Gon is still lying down, rock suspended on his head, but his eyes are wide and alert even in the dark, just a hint of moon highlighting his profile.

“Woke you up?” Killua whispers back, setting his jaw so that his voice comes out collected. 

“It’s fine,” Gon says, which isn’t an answer at all. Killua waits for the rock to come down, slowly, until it touches the ground with a soft thud.

Biscuit doesn’t seem to mind. If she wakes up too, she doesn’t talk.

“Are you feeling okay? How are your hands?”

“Fine,” Killua repeats, a bit too fast. It’s just— jeez, what do these people want from him? He did it because he wanted. Because it mattered, because it _meant_ something. “They kinda hurt, but I can bear it no problem,” he adds, voice nonchalant.

There’s a pause, brief.

“I thought you were feeling cold,” Gon says, like the realization has hit him that exact moment. Maybe it did, because Gon is made of hunches and instincts just as much as Killua is made of, apparently, endless overthinking. “Wait, I’m coming there.”

Of fucking course. Gon is up in a second and then down again, sitting next to him in a rustle of fabric. 

“What,” Killua asks, because, what the heck. He can’t really see Gon’s face like that, but he can feel the blanket thrown in his direction, just like Gon's limbs as he settles right beside him.

“Here, come on,” Gon tells him, like they’re sharing a bed instead of a dirty, folded blanket. “I think I woke up because I heard you shaking and I… It’s not cold, though, you know? Actually, the weather on this island is pretty wonderful, Ging sure chose it right.”

“Yeah,” Killua says. “I mean, I know, it’s not the weather. It’s nothing.”

“What is it?” Gon insists and Killua feels a blush creeping up on his cheeks for reasons he truly can’t name at this point. 

It may be just Gon, really, existing like that for the sole purpose of throwing him off balance. Of making Killua throw himself off balance willingly, like that’s the only way to live.

“I’m not cold. It’s just a dumb neural response to pain, you know?” he says even if Gon doesn’t know for sure and that’s such a good thought somehow. He’s so happy that Gon doesn’t know, because pain is bad – Killua can bear it, and that’s pretty useful, so it’s no big deal. Until somehow it is, because it’s bad if it concerns Gon. He shouldn’t know any of it. Killua doesn’t want for him to know. 

“The stupid sympathetic nervous system or whatever reacts in a lot of ways and sometimes if pain is, like, acute or prolonged it can make you shiver or get goosebumps.” He’s reciting, repeating something Illumi must have told him with that same didactic tone he used to tell him everything. He doesn’t even finish the whole sentence that Gon hands are on his arms already, callous palms sliding on his skin, touching like he owns the place. 

Hell. He fucking does at this point; Killua isn’t even properly angry about it.

“What the heck,” he says, though, because dignity. He should still have some left.

“You’re right, goosebumps!” Gon tells him, with both curiosity and surprise, like Killua has revealed some new, exciting natural wonder. Instead of letting go, the grip becomes stronger until it’s clear he’s snuggling up to him.

“Gon,” Killua says as a warning, but his bloodlust is just wasted with this guy. “What the hell are you doing.”

“Spooning.”

Killua’s brain short-circuits and that’s exactly how he gets back on the ground, lying on his side while Gon wraps his limbs around him like an octopus. 

“It’s usually Kon who does it for me when I sleep in the forest and it’s chill outside,” Gon says, ruffling Killua’s neck with warm breath as he whispers. “I’m not as warm or fluffy but I guess it’s better than nothing?”

Killua’s brain is going to explode, thank you very much.

“Gon,” he says, as a very weak warning. He doesn’t even know who he’s really trying to warn: Gon isn’t going to listen and as for himself… His hands are pulsing, pain scorching and bone-deep and still, he doesn’t even feel it anymore – not as he feels Gon’s rubbing his shoulder like he’s sure he can convince Killua’s body to catch fire. 

He could – Gon is warm, almost too much. It’s like getting to sleep in front of a fireplace and that’s why Killua is blushing like a dumbass, warmness creeping up his neck.

“See? You’re a lot warmer already!” Gon says, lively and maybe a little too relieved, as if this dumb, little issue was seriously bothering him.

Killua feels a lot warmer for sure. Killua is on the verge of a spontaneous combustion and at this point he doesn't even know why – why why why Gon is always like that, always so warm and why does he trusts Killua so much, to the point of caring, like he really couldn’t do things without Killua and that’s why Killua matters to him, in a different way than he's ever mattered for anyone before. 

Killua would kill for Gon on the spot, if Gon would ask, and the fact that he would never ask such a thing of him is what makes Gon so special and… What about just _playing_ together, just for the sake of it – no training implication, no games of tag or hide and seek that can only end up in punishments. And, anyway, even training had never been so fun and fulfilling and right and it’s all because Gon is there. It’s all because of Gon.

Killua would do anything for him, he realizes, as Gon’s breath gradually softens, still close to his ear. His hold doesn’t loosen. He snuggles even closer, limbs thrown around Killua to keep him warm. 

He would do anything for Gon. Illumi was wrong – it’s the first time Killua really feels like his brother was wrong for real. This thing, this warmth, he doesn’t know what is it, but there’s never been anything more precious to him ever, not that he can remember.

He promised Gon he would have helped him find his dad while he was searching for something to do for himself.

He can’t base his whole existence onto ‘helping Gon’, right? He can’t. But if he could just stay – just train and play and anything that Gon wants. Somehow Killua is starting to think that he's never going to want anything different than what Gon wants. 

“Killua.” The voice is slurred, Killua can feel Gon’s nose wrinkling on the nape of his neck.

“Yes,” he answers, in a whisper so small that not even a fully alert Biscuit would have caught it.

“Even if I don’t find Ging when we clear the game, let’s stick together, okay?”

“Yes, I told you,” he says. “I’m going to stay with you until—”

Gon is already back at sleep, then, snoring softly against his ear.

*

Killua wakes up at the smell of something too strong for breakfast.

“Don’t be a weakling, garlic is good for you,” Biscuit says, even before Killua has the chance to do something more expressive than squinting at her.

“What time is it,” he asks. It's useless, the sun is high enough to tell him that it must be pretty damn late. Gon sure has been up for hours: he’s already covered in sweat and cursing as he tries to push himself up, one hand on the ground and teeth gritted.

“You evidently needed the sleep,” Biscuit rebuts, unfazed. “Here, come and get something to eat."

"So,” she starts again, while Killua is still deciding how on earth he’s going to maneuver that garlic bread inside his mouth without getting his bandages soaked in the smell for the rest of the day. “Did you come up with a strategy?”

“Not yet,” Killua tells her, balancing the slice on his open palm. “But I have a couple of ideas, I just need to think everything through before we decide.”

Biscuit nods. She scarfs down her bread like garlic doesn’t mean a thing and, thinking about it, her ridiculous hatsu probably has solutions for letting her get away with the smell.

Gon has fallen again, chest rising fast with panting, sweat glinting under the sun.

A cup materializes itself between Killua’s eyes and smacks him right on the forehead.

“What was that for!” he complains. He can’t even actually grab the mug with those stupid, useless hands. Biscuit seems to realize it, because she sighs and places it on the ground, near his knee.

“I know it can be difficult to stay focused at your age, but try your hardest okay?”

“What do you mean?” Killua asks, confused.

Biscuit rolls her eyes, but she’s already sneering, like Killua’s own face is some kind of hilarious joke.

“Eat your breakfast, drink your coffee, don’t think too much about Gon even if I know it’s a lot to ask,” she tells him, in a sigh. “I don’t even understand if he does it on purpose or if he’s just as oblivious as you, to be honest.” She sighs again, looking positively happy with herself, and she’s already up, yelling at Gon like a drill sergeant way before Killua has time to process what she’s said.

He looks at the garlic bread. Then at Gon again, the way he burns with energy and pure, stark concentration under the midday sun, arm trembling, sweat spilling, and a confidence that could level mountains.

Biscuit isn’t looking at him, she’s turned again toward Killua. And she’s grinning – that absolute _hag_.

“What is it?” Gon asks, voice strained and hopelessly oblivious.

“Focus. You’ll have plenty of time to fret over it when you’ll both hit puberty,” Biscuit says, the voice of someone who’s prophesying misfortunes – and enjoying every bit of it.


End file.
